


Chuck

by DresdenHaskell



Series: Contingent Events [5]
Category: Monster of the Week (Tabletop RPG), Original Work
Genre: Gen, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-04
Updated: 2019-07-04
Packaged: 2020-06-09 16:20:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19479571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DresdenHaskell/pseuds/DresdenHaskell
Summary: A pitiless vampire selectively breeds his meals over the centuries.





	Chuck

Somewhere in France, a destitute girl with a round belly knelt before Lord Charles. His domain wasn't large -- just one small castle among many that dotted Europe at that point, surrounded by the usual little swath of farmland, worked by serfs that owed their lives to him, as all owed their liege.  
  
He was a fair magistrate, albeit a harsh one. Offenders of all sorts were hanged swiftly. He disallowed beheading criminals. And if a group were sentenced, he stayed his hand, putting only one in the gallows, bringing the rest to his fortress as servants to work the rest of their days.  
  
One by one he'd drink them dry over the next few weeks. For a short time, at least, he'd have the extra sets of hands to tend his household.  
  
He reserved no other food for himself, of course, and needed no light or warmth in his quarters. His taxes ran a little lower than most on account of this. Instead, he demanded one thing of his people: A small sample of blood on each person's coming-of-age day. Just a taste. Just enough to gauge their health.  
  
"I understand your husband perished," Charles said to the girl before him.  
  
"Yes, My Lord. In a fire," the teen said.  
  
The fire had destroyed most of her life, and everyone she had left to care for her. He hadn't set it (highly impractical; that was his own land, after all). It was just convenient timing. She was such a healthy girl.  
  
He sent for survivors of the catastrophe as soon as he'd heard, hoping she was among them. Of course she was. She had a strong constitution. She was a little singed and smoked, but otherwise in good condition, and her pregnancy was coming along fine, it seemed.  
  
Pity about her husband. He had been healthy too. If he'd died of illness, Charles would worry. Accidents were acceptable. Unfortunate, but acceptable, better than a mark of bad breeding. They'd have a good, healthy baby. Just a pity they'd only ever have the one, eh?  
  
"Have you any means left to feed yourself, or your child?" he asked.  
  
"I --" She hesitated. That was a 'no'. He already knew. She said, "I'll work anywhere you require, My Lord."  
  
She thought he'd assign her to a new farm. How quaint.  
  
"I need a new maid, as it happens. I won't work you too hard, dear, and you'll have your own quarters here. Fire-proof," he chuckled. "You'll be under my personal protection. If anyone threatens you, tell me. It's in my best interests to have my staff at their best health, and I'll tolerate no harm done to you."  
  
She cried and thanked him and thanked God, and bowed and scraped and all that, and he suffered the show of emotions for a while before sending her off with the older maid to get situated. The old nag would have a short-lived retirement ahead. She was starting to get wheezy, and it made her blood less pleasant on his palate. At least now he could finally replace her.  
  
\---  
  
"And just how do you plan to pay for all that?"  
  
The latest Renard and descendant of the young girl, a young-but-not-as-young man, shot Charles a dark look at the question. "I don't need your money."  
  
"Oh, now. I don't think you really have the right mind for business. Now, isn't that villa nice? Is it not suitable? I'm happy to fund any little relocation you have in mind. Did you want something in the city instead?"  
  
"It's not about the scenery. It's not about the house. It's about you."  
  
"I think my requests are perfectly fair and reasonable, for all that I've done for your family, don't you think?"  
  
"My son's not going to be bitten by some mad old --"  
  
"Allow me to rephrase. How are you going to pay for this venture when I own everything you own, and consent to no such use of my assets? Have a look at the deeds, if you will. Ask the banks. Ask the investors. Do take more than a minute to think things over, hm? Your son certainly won't be getting bitten by anyone if you're all out-of-home."  
  
"You -- God-damned --"  
  
"Mm, probably. It is a nice little villa, isn't it, though?"  
  
\---  
  
"It's time we went to the New World, I think. Had a little bit of an incident, my dears. No, I forbid questions. Later, perhaps. Pack your things and hurry on to the docks, now. There's a ship -- Don't worry, yes, all paid for, all of us, yes -- No, dear, I'm afraid not, I've liquidated everything -- I know, I know. I'm very sorry. Think of it as an adventure."  
  
\---  
  
"Oh, Eugene," Charles said with an affected sigh. "Her?"  
  
Eugene's hands set firmly on his hips. She'd just left the room.  
  
"I told you, I love her."  
  
"She's sick. I don't even need to taste her to know that. Please, whatever happened to Esther? She was such a darling. A good, strong girl."  
  
"I didn't get along with Esther. Sorry, Uncle Chuck. I was hoping for your blessing, but I'm going through with this whether you give it or not."  
  
I should wring the little reprobate's neck, Chuck thought. What a fucking travesty this is. Years of corralling these infantile morsels like a herd of cats, keeping the bloodline strong, and he goes and does THIS to me.  
  
"Ah," Chuck said with a small smile. "I can't stand in the way of true love, now, can I?"  
  
\---  
  
Chuck wished he could smoke, on nights like this. Sure, he could draw the fumes in, but they didn't do much to something like him anymore, except stain his teeth and breath. He frowned hard into the darkness of his home office, knuckles tight around the telephone.  
  
Died from complications of childbirth. Weak woman, he'd warned them, hadn't he? They hadn't listened. Her tissue-paper cunt hemorrhaged all over the hospital bed. A Renard bleeding to death was just an insult on top of a waste.  
  
"I'm so sorry, Eugene," Chuck said with his best conjured imitation of sympathy. "I know how much you loved her."  
  
He endured some more reckless sobbing over the receiver. He needed this like he needed a new hole in the head. He had paperwork he could be doing.  
  
"What about the baby?" he asked during a lull in tears.  
  
A fresh touch of warmth, though bittersweet, came through in Eugene's reply.  
  
\---  
  
"Unacceptable," Chuck said firmly. "You're not going. Haven't you heard? Vietnam is ugly this time of century."  
  
Another phone call with the insolent prick was leaving Chuck with the distinct urge to twist his head off like a Coca-Cola cap.  
  
"No, I don't -- I don't care, Eu- Eugene, stop interrupting me for one --"  
  
He inhaled deeply just to sigh loudly.  
  
"We'll get this deferred as many times as we need to. You know I can -- Eugene, if I'm good at anything, it's greasing wheels, yes?"  
  
He was already rifling through a book for the local chapter's contact information.  
  
"Mm. How positively patriotic of you, yes -- What? No, Eugene, damn you, don't --"  
  
\---  
  
It didn't take long for vindication that Chuck never wanted. Why must he always be right? He'd have to start locking these idiots up in cages to keep them out of trouble, at this rate.  
  
\---  
  
Chuck had a drinking glass with a little chip on the rim, barely visible. It looked like all the rest of his drinking glasses, otherwise. He threw every Renard a party for their fifteenth birthday in his spacious home, and ensured at some point they drank punch or pop or what-have-you from that cup.  
  
"Ah, crap!" Vanessa jerked her head back and touched her bleeding lip.  
  
"Oh dear," Chuck said, already moving swiftly across the room. "I'm so sorry. I didn't realize, here --" He took the cup, he dabbed the cloth to stem the blood, he took the cup and cloth away, and in the kitchen he took a taste. The same old tax to their liege lord, she just didn't know it.  
  
He didn't really need to bother. He already knew the bitch was dead walking. It was just a shame she wasn't still-born.  
  
\---  
  
Chuck had to wash his hands of this family. Centuries of selective breeding were in the gutter. He didn't want to risk the horrid result continuing to procreate, prolonging his sponsorship of a house with no reward. Never bet on a lame horse, after all -- Just shoot it.  
  
He had some pride, though. He had some convictions. He mostly just liked being a man of his word. He considered murdering Little Orphan Vannie, of course. It was just practical, merciful even. Just switch out her insulin with water or something, let it look natural. But ah, no. He could wring some use of this yet. He did hate being a quitter, and he'd stuck with the Renards the longest.  
  
"Louis, Gladys," Chuck greeted the old couple, "I have a proposition to make. As we all know, your granddaughter is... Ah, not long for this Earth, I don't believe. She suffers tremendously, daily, as it is."  
  
His voice dripped with what sounded like real compassion. They nodded, hands over one another's for comfort. At this very moment, Vanessa was missing prom after puking out her guts, and a significant amount of blood, all over her bedroom a week ago.  
  
"I have never offered this gift to anyone before," Chuck went on, more quietly, leaning forward. It was a lie. He'd turned plenty. Turned them and turned them loose. Some he kept on as minions for a while, but he hated sharing meals.  
  
"You don't mean...?" Gladys said, hushed.  
  
Good thing he already had power of attorney. He'd nip their bloodline in the bud, and sweep the winnings off the table. Snatching victory from the jaws of defeat, as it were.  
  
"I can save Vanessa's life, when it's time. I can make her immortal."


End file.
